


Not Running Away

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Early MSR, F/M, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 04:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15162629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: An accidentally witnessed pastime leads to much more between the former partners.





	Not Running Away

In the last few weeks this has become her favorite, guilty pastime: watching Mulder. Scully rationalizes it away - missing him - in the beginning. The only solid, clear-cut reason being that it’s just the work she’s missing and not him at all. That’s what she tells herself, at first. The thrill of it is gone. No more nighttime calls, no crazy goose chases. No monsters to be seen or to be caught. That’s all she’s missing. Isn’t it? 

She goes to work at 9 am and leaves at 5 pm, on the dot every day. Her life has a routine, is so predictable that she can see her friends after work, can spend time with Ellen and her godson. But she misses it. She misses arguing with Mulder. The mental challenge every work day provides. She misses the sound of Mulder cracking sunflower seeds. The crunch of accidentally stepping on the empty shells, because he can’t be bothered with them. She misses his smile. The way he invades her personal space. The way… the truth is, and she hates to admit it to herself, she does miss Mulder, all of him. It’s as simple as that.

She happens upon him by accident, the first time. It’s early morning, before work. She wakes up just after sunrise with the cheap romance novel she’s been reading the night before nestled next to her like a sleepy lover. Sighing, she puts on her exercise gear and goes out into the crisp spring air. 

At first she doesn’t believe it’s Mulder. Why would Mulder be here, where she lived? But she watches him, the man, circling the running track and there’s no mistaking it. Mulder. Her legs slow down, as does her breathing. For a while she watches him from behind the fence, feeling like a spy. Not once does he stop or slow down. Mulder is in his own world – or trying to escape it. She watches until she begins to feel chilly, her skin covered in tiny goose bumps. That is the first time watching him. It’s not her last.

Scully doesn’t do it every day and she doesn’t tell Mulder, doesn’t ask him why he is there at all. They don’t speak much as it is. If she mentions it and he stays away… these days, she cannot risk losing another part of him. Right or wrong, the few times she watches him like this belong to her. A guilty pleasure she tucks neatly away in her mind, in her life. Once or twice he’s not there; when she sees strangers on the track, her heart squeezes painfully, constricts. The need to see him, study him in an unguarded moment, overwhelming her time and again. 

Sunday. 

She hasn’t seen Mulder in days. Long, excruciating days. They’ve talked on the phone, neither of them able to cut the cord, just hang up and move on. Scully wakes early, her body unable to find rest in the unusual pre-summer heat. As she puts on her exercise clothes in solemn steps as though it were a religious ritual, she listens to the weather forecast on the radio. Scully grimaces and puts her hair up in a messy ponytail. She regards her face in the mirror, freckled and refreshed. Get excited for a taste of summer! The radio host boasts and Scully sighs. 

The city is still half asleep when she jogs through the streets, the sun tickling her skin. There’s not a cloud in the sky as it smiles down at her in a perfect blue. Sweat breaks out on her forehead as the running track comes into sight like a Fata Morgana. Scully pants, uncertain if she’s been too quick, her lungs unable to catch up. Or if it’s the thought of seeing Mulder again, finally. 

They’re alone, once again. It’s just Mulder running in circles, Scully close by, behind the fence, watching him. The metal digs into her skin as she grips it tightly, barely realizing. Her eyes follow Mulder. She thinks she can hear him, is convinced she can smell him. His salty, sweaty skin. What would it feel like if she touched it? What would he taste like if she dared? Her thoughts make her gasp, add another layer of pink to her flushed cheeks.

She’s allowed herself these transgressions before, dreaming about him. In the safety of her own apartment, in the night, when no one could suspect her, reprimand her. This now, this is new. This desire. This lust. Scully licks her dry lips quickly, her eyes staying with Mulder. A soft breeze sends a whiff of sun-warmed Tartan turf her way, reminding Scully of high school, of first times. Crushes and other kinds. What would happen, she wonders, if she stopped watching from the sidelines? What would happen if she joined him?

Mulder stops. He doesn’t slow down, just stops. His hands on his thighs, he catches his breath. He wipes sweat from his brow and then, easily and without haste, turns around as if he’s known all along. His body is still as he stands there on the running track. The sun obscures the scene, but she knows he is looking at her. She feels the heat of him on her skin, everywhere. 

Scully doesn’t move. He walks towards her, but she stands there, waiting. 

“Hey.” Mulder says when he reaches her. They’re still separated, the fence between them. He steps closer and puts his hands on the chain-link fence, his fingers clasping the metal and sneaking through the diamonds as if reaching out to her as tentatively as he can muster.

“Hi." 

"You’re out early.”

“So are you.” Mulder shrugs. “Not many people here this time of day." 

"No. It’s nice.” They both fall quiet. Mulder takes another step forward, one of his hands coming closer to hers. She feels his warmth and wants to touch it, him. She doesn’t dare. They can barely talk to each other. How would they do anything else?

“What are you doing here, Scully?”

“I was out running. What are you doing here, Mulder? You don’t live here.” He shrugs again.

“I’m thinking of moving to Foxhall Village. Or is that too much on the nose?” Mulder chuckles, obviously proud of his own joke. “Had to check out the neighborhood first. See what it’s like. If it’s safe. You know how it is.”

“Mulder…”

“I like it here.” He says simply, looking at her. His eyes are intense, shimmer. She wonders if it’s because he’s been working out or… “You like it, too, don’t you?”

“Huh?”

“The neighborhood.”

“I live here, Mulder." 

"I see. You come here often.” It’s not a question and their eyes meet. She should have known. She should have. Mulder, like her, is a trained investigator.

“You…knew?”

“Seen you around.” He grins boyishly, gives her a soft, quick laugh. 

“I’m sorry, Mulder. I should-”

“Who did you like in high school, Scully?” She glances at him, less shyly now, but confused. “The track and field guys? The soccer boys? Or did you not go for jocks at all? I could see you falling for the nerdy kind.” Scully licks her lips again and Mulder watches her, doesn’t even pretend not to. 

“Swimmers.” She says, daring him to look at her. 

“I swim.”

“I know.”

“Ever watch me swim, Scully?" 

"No, Mulder. Can’t say that I have.” Her face betrays her, shows that she’s been thinking about it. Quite a lot. But she’s not seen it, him. She can imagine the play of his muscles as he plunges into the water. The gentle splash of the waves against the pool as he swims his laps one after the other.

“So do you only watch me or-”

“Mulder.” His fingers sneak into her diamond now and graze hers. They’re warm, sweaty. The touch is hesitant, a question. “You know the answer.”

“I do.” His face draws closer and they both giggle as his nose brushes against the metal. But then his mouth is there, his lips dancing against hers. It’s awkward as they tilt their heads this way and that, never quite finding the right angle.

“What in the…” The voice is not loud, but deep, surprised. They jump apart like teenagers, caught in the act. Scully wipes her mouth as Mulder keeps his hand on her other one through the fence. He’s not letting go.

“Sir.” He gives Skinner, clad in tight running shorts and fitting shirt, a nod. “I didn’t know you lived close by.”

“Obviously.” He eyes them both, scrutinizes them. Then his whole face softens and the corner of his mouth twitches. “Look, you two can do whatever you want. It is no longer my business. Just…” Skinner makes a hand gesture before he turns to Mulder. “She deserves better than this.” It’s a friendly reminder of where they are, who they are. Skinner gives them a stern look in parting, professional as always. He starts jogging and Scully follows his graceful movements until Mulder tugs at her pinky. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Can I come around the fence? Try this again?” When she nods, he grins and jogs the short way to the small door. His steps slow when they’re finally on the same side, nothing between them.

Scully waits for his touch, his kiss. She wants and needs it. She moves closer and Mulder hesitates. He touches the hair in her ponytail, seems fascinated as it runs through his fingers like soft silk.

“My eyes are here, Mulder.” Scully jokes and before she knows it, his mouth is back on hers. He tastes salty, but warm like the sun. She grabs his arms, feels his hot skin burn hers. He engulfs her, presses their bodies together. 

“Are you done watching?” Mulder asks into her mouth, his tongue playing with hers. 

“No,” she whispers as she licks his bottom lip, hungry for more of him, “I’ll never be done.”


End file.
